


love is strange

by starsandgutters



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, i'm not a sap YOU'RE a sap!!!, just silly teenagers in love being silly teenagers in love, nothing to see here move along, the answer is no. no i absolutely won't, will i ever stop inserting lyrics into my fic for no good reason?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-06
Packaged: 2019-02-11 04:28:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12927453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandgutters/pseuds/starsandgutters
Summary: Adam looked at him curiously, eyes slightly narrowed. “Do you… like that?”Ronan’s cheeks felt very warm. “Uh, no?” he scoffed, disdainfully.Too obvious. Try again.“Like what?” he shrugged, the motion not at all natural.Adam turned off the tap. He’d caught on, and there would be no shaking him. “Y’know. That word.Lover.”“Don’t be ridiculous, Parrish,” he said, trying for haughty and missing by a mile or two. His cheeks definitely felt even warmer now, and Ronan could feel, with horror, the blush creeping down to his neck.“Youdo,” Adam said, delightedly. “Oh my God.”“I don’t,” Ronan insisted, then remembered he didn’t lie, huffed, and glowered at the celing instead. “So what?”---(AKA: of  lazy summer mornings at the Barns, smitten teenagers, and old-fashioned love songs).





	love is strange

**Author's Note:**

> Fic title refers to the 1956 song 'Love Is Strange', notably used in the soundtrack of dirty dancing. #themoreyouknow
> 
> Fic concept inspired by: me being a ridiculous human being, and [this scene](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DV01iKoBn1c) from 'Please Like Me'.
> 
> Thanks to the ever-lovely [Yas](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FangedAngel/pseuds/FangedAngel) for betaing this last minute!

* * *

During the summer, it wasn’t often that Ronan woke up after Adam. He was used to weird sleeping patterns, and Adam was in perpetual sleep debt during the school year, so now he made up for it by sleeping in whenever he didn’t have an early shift at work.

That morning, however, seemed to be one of the exceptions, Ronan making his way downstairs to find Adam sitting at the kitchen table with a book, no doubt trying to get a head start on the coursework for his first semester at Columbia. He stopped for a moment at the foot of the stairs to savor the sight: Adam in loose sweatpants and an old t-shirt, hair still mussed from sleep or from running his hands through it, sitting in Ronan’s home like he belonged there, because he _did_ belong there. Ronan’s heart skipped a beat in his chest, then another two when he realized Adam was wearing one of _his_ old t-shirts (Adam always claimed he just grabbed whatever was closest, but Ronan was certain he did that to him on purpose, the little shit).

“Morning,” he greeted, stepping into the kitchen, making sure to approach Adam from his right side.

Adam looked up, closing his book but keeping one long finger inside to mark his place. “Mornin’,” he replied, his smile as soft as his rolling accent, which always liked to make more of an appearance early in the morning or late at night.

“Sleep well?” Ronan asked, reaching down to mess his hair up even more.

“Mhm. Like the dead. That mattress is a dream.” He paused, tilting his head to one side. “Wait, _was_ it a dream?”

Ronan snorted. They had recently moved to Niall and Aurora’s old bedroom, because as spring rolled into summer and the days turned hotter, it was getting impossible for them to share Ronan’s old twin-size bed without waking up all sticky and sweaty (and not for one of the _fun_ reasons). When Ronan had complained about the excessive heat, Adam had offered to go back to Declan’s room, but Ronan was damned if he was sleeping on his own again. He had had a taste of what it was like to wake up to Adam, and he wasn’t giving it up if he had a choice.

He’d thought it would be weird to sleep in his parents’ room, but somehow, it was better for it to be put to use; it had always felt too empty, a gaping reminder of Niall’s absence first, then Aurora’s. And, to be honest, the mattress _was_ amazing.

“It’s entirely possible. Or it could just be a good fucking mattress. How come you’re up so early, then? Every other morning, it’s like I wake up next to a log.”

Adam raised his eyebrows at him, with a small smirk: “Oh, I’m sure it is.”

“Wow, so clever,” Ronan drawled, sarcastically. He chose to ignore the fact he could feel his cheeks warming up, or the way Adam’s smirk only grew larger in response.

“I know, right,” Adam replied modestly. “Anyway, I woke up because I was thirsty and when I was here… well, food just seemed like a good idea.”

“Imagine that,” Ronan deadpanned benevolently. It was Adam’s turn to blush. His perennial appetite was something of an awe-inspiring thing, but Ronan knew all too well why he was always hungry, and didn’t mind one bit. In fact, he took every available opportunity to feed him.

“Chill out, Parrish. You could use some more meat on that skinny ass anyway,” he teased, making a big show of eyeing him up and down.

Adam leveled him with a _look_. They both knew exactly how he felt about Adam’s ass. It was just about the same way Adam felt about his.

Ronan cleared his throat. “Want more coffee?”

“God, yes, please,” Adam moaned, dropping the staring contest. (Which may or may not have been exactly what Ronan was after. When trying to distract Adam, coffee was almost always effective.)

As Ronan went to the counter and started making a fresh pot of coffee, he spotted a plate by the sink, covered in pieces of toast. They were arranged in shapes that resembled nothing known to the human eye, but were very clearly intentional nonetheless.

“Opal?” he guessed.

“Yeah,” Adam replied wryly. “You really need to teach her not to play with her food.”

“What makes you think she listens to me?”

“It’s more of a blind hope, really,” Adam sighed. “She’s got to listen to _someone_.”

“She listens to _you_ , for some reason.”

Adam looked like he wanted to say something, but bit his tongue and reopened the book instead. Ronan was fairly sure he knew what Adam had almost said: _I’m not always going to be around._ Which was true, but Ronan did not like to think about it, if he could avoid it.

“Where is she, anyway?” he asked, trying to change the topic.

“Out in the fields? I guess? She told me to tell you she wasn’t gonna be around for lunch. Probably gonna eat more sticks or something,” Adam smiled, amused.

Ronan clucked his tongue. “Look at her, all emancipated already. They grow up so fast.”

He moved back to the table, bringing the fresh pot of coffee and some buttered toast for himself (and for Adam, despite the fact Adam had ostensibly eaten already).

“Anyhow, before you decided to make a crass sexual innuendo,” he started, in his best Gansey voice, “I was just saying that you’re very still when you’re asleep. That’s all.”

Adam snorted at the impression. “Yes, well, I’m not used to moving around much in my sleep,” he said, predictably reaching a hand out to steal a corner of Ronan’s toast (to Ronan’s part-smug, part-endeared satisfaction). “Haven’t exactly had the most luxurious beds. If I rolled around too much, chances were I’d be sleeping on the floor.”

Ronan had spent enough nights at St. Agnes, either beside Adam’s bed or inside it, to know that was true; and he’d only been inside Adam’s parents’ trailer once, when he’d helped him move out, but the bed was even smaller there.

“Well, better get used to it, Parrish,” he grinned, reclining back into the chair and crossing his arms behind his head arrogantly. “You’re living the high life now. That good ol’ king-sized bed life.”

Adam looked at him with the same weird hesitance as before, but this time, he actually said the words. “Well, until I leave for college, at least.”

Ronan stopped leaning back into the chair and planted his elbows on the table instead, mock-arrogance and grin both gone. He started tearing a piece of toast apart with glowering concentration, and realized belatedly it was exactly what Opal had done with hers, and what Chainsaw did with anything she could get her beak on. Maybe it ran in the family.

“Ronan,” Adam said quietly, gently.

“Why do you have to say shit like that?” Ronan said, staring at the table.

“Because – it’s the truth? And because I don’t want you to – I don’t know – forget that it’s happening, and then be disappointed when it’s time for me to leave.” Adam sounded genuinely regretful, which did nothing to ease Ronan’s bad mood, because Adam was also, in some ways, completely right. Ronan _did_ try his best to ignore that this newfound bliss was only going to last until the end of the summer. But just because he tried to bask in denial, it didn’t mean he was successful.

“You think I can actually forget that? That I don’t think about it every damn day?” he spit back despondently, but it came out sounding more forlorn than biting, which perhaps was for the best.

“Okay. You’re right. I’m sorry.” Adam’s voice was quiet, but earnest. “I just want us to be okay. And I think about it too, you know.”

Ronan looked up at him, with all the skepticism he could muster. “Please. You _can’t wait_ to go to college.”

“Well, yeah,” Adam acknowledged, simply, meeting Ronan’s eyes head on. He had never compromised on that, and never would, and if Ronan was being honest with himself, he loved him for it. “But that doesn’t mean I’m not gonna miss you every day.”

“Smooth-talking bastard,” Ronan replied. He knew Adam knew that was what he needed to hear, but he also knew that Adam _meant_ it, and that was enough to dissipate his bad mood. “Eat your toast.”

“It’s _your_ toast.” Adam poked Ronan’s bare foot with his socked one, a tentative peace offering.

“Then eat _my_ toast,” Ronan drawled. “I’m gonna make more anyway.”

So they ate toast, and they drank coffee, and Ronan told Adam what he had dreamt, and Adam told Ronan what he was reading about. It was all so utterly _domestic,_ it made Ronan’s heart ache in all the best ways. _This is it,_ he thought to himself. _Whatever happiness is, this is it._

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, Chainsaw coming down from her perch to peck at the cold remnants of toast. Ronan got lost in the hypnotic motion of stroking her feathers, like he used to do when she was just a fledgling. When he looked up, Adam was gathering the dishes and mugs and taking them to the sink, but not before Ronan had caught him staring with unabashed fondness at him and Chainsaw.

“What,” he deadpanned.

“I keep telling you,” Adam shrugged, slightly embarrassed at being caught out, “you look like a supervillain petting his familiar. Pretty darn cute.”

“Supervillains aren’t _cute_ , Parrish.”

“Well, I guess you’ll be the first one, then.” And there it was, that cheery smile, all cheeky uncomplicated happiness. Ronan sometimes wondered if his heart would ever stop accelerating when he saw it. So far, the odds weren’t in his favor.

Restless, he got up and joined Adam at the sink.

“You don’t have to do the dishes, you know.”

“I know. I don’t mind.”

“I can do them,” Ronan insisted.

“You made breakfast.”

Ronan rolled his eyes. “I put bread in a toaster.”

“And made coffee.”

“Whatever. You’re supposed to be taking it easy, remember? You’re the one who insisted he still needed to work two jobs through the summer, not me.”

“Well, aren’t you glad you have such an independent lover?” Adam joked.

It _was_ a joke, Ronan knew. They’d only recently gotten used to the idea of referring to each other as _boyfriend_ , and Ronan suspected Adam was riffing on an unfortunate joke Henry had made when they’d moved in together, something about Adam becoming Ronan’s kept mistress, which had resulted in Gansey wincing, Blue making an indignant noise, and Ronan chewing him out furiously (Adam, curiously, had been silent; as he later explained to Ronan, not because he agreed with it, but because for once in his life, he didn’t feel like he had something to prove to anyone, and he had five different Ivy League acceptance letters on his desk to testify for it).

So. It was a joke. Which really did nothing to explain why Ronan’s mouth went dry and his stomach flipped in a funny way at the word _lover._

“That what you are, Parrish?” he heard himself say in a small, rough voice before he could stop the words from coming out. _Oh God, what. The fuck are you doing._

Adam looked at him curiously, wrist-deep in soapy water. “Um. I guess? _Wait._ ” He looked up at Ronan more closely, eyes slightly narrowed. “Do you… _like_ that?”

Ronan’s cheeks felt very warm. “Uh, no?” he scoffed, disdainfully. _Too obvious. Try again._

“Like what?” he shrugged, the motion not at all natural.

Adam turned off the tap. He’d caught on, and there would be no shaking him. “Y’know. That word. _Lover._ ”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Parrish,” he said, trying for haughty and missing by a mile or two. His cheeks definitely felt even warmer now, and Ronan could feel, with horror, the blush creeping down to his neck.

“You _do_ ,” Adam said, delightedly. “Oh my God.”

“I _don’t_ ,” Ronan insisted, then remembered he didn’t lie, huffed, and glowered at the ceiling instead. “So what?”

“Oh, nothing. I just think it’s _adorable_ –”

“Fuck you, Parrish–”

“--and that if I’d known, I would have used it sooner and more often–”

“You’re such an asshole.”

“Yeah, but takes one to know one, right?” Adam grinned, unrepentant. Ronan had _definitely_ been a terrible influence on him. Or maybe they’d just always been more similar than he’d been willing to contemplate. He chose to storm out of the kitchen anyway, cursing his fair complexion and ignoring the fact he could definitely still hear Adam chuckling in the kitchen. He could wash a hundred dishes for all Ronan cared.

He threw himself on the couch in a manner he hoped conveyed at once annoyance and superiority, and pretended to be very invested in the latest dream object he’d produced, a small painting of a landscape where the weather conditions changed if you shook it.

After a few minutes of sulking, he saw out of the corner of his eye Adam coming out of the kitchen and heading for the desk where Ronan’s computer was hooked up to the speakers. Ronan almost asked what he was doing, but Adam already knew his password anyway, and to acknowledge him was to give up the moral high ground, so he just shook the painting again, ostensibly very interested in the pictorial representation of hail.

Apparently, Adam had been fiddling with his Spotify account, because moments later, the sound of a guitar riff filled the room, and _of course._

Ronan threw the painting down. He had hung out at Boyd’s during Adam’s shift often enough to have gained more than a passing knowledge of classic rock.

“Oh, _extremely_ funny, Parrish. Really, extremely fucking funny.”

Adam evidently thought so too, because he laughed and then started to seriously, honest-to-God _lip-sync_ to the song.

Right, that was the last straw. Ronan got up from the couch, ready to storm out of another room, but Adam quickly caught up with him and grabbed him by the wrist, then ran his fingers along his forearm, and okay, maybe Ronan could stay a couple minutes. Whatever.

“You getting your kicks out of this, Parrish?” he asked, trying to sound as bored as possible.

Adam grinned and casually rested his arms on ronan shoulders.

 _After you’ve had it, you’re in an awful fix_ , the song crooned, talking about love. Ronan was inclined to agree with the singing duo, because obviously he was as fucked as them, as evidenced by the way his arms decided of their own accord to snake around Adam’s waist.

Were they– _swaying_? Was this what high school proms were like?

And really, what the fuck was this morning?

Feeling equal parts surreal, foolish, and contented, he readjusted his loose hold on Adam, letting his hands rest at the small of his back. Adam’s hands, he could feel, were laced behind his neck, making him conscious of every point of contact.

 _Your sweet loving is better than a kiss_ , Adam lip-synced, half-humorously– but only half, Ronan couldn’t help but notice. Somehow, he felt much more inclined to forgive him now – and even more so when Adam quickly caught his lips in-between lines, gently tugging at his bottom one.

 _When you leave me, sweet kisses I’ll miss,_ the song went, and Ronan swallowed hard, refusing to even pretend-sing that line, but still feeling it in his chest.

They swayed along the next riff, the motion somehow incredibly awkward and oddly satisfying at the same time. He cringed. He knew what was coming next.

 _Sylvia?,_ Adam mouthed, directing his flirtiest look at him.

 _Yes, Mickey,_ Ronan mouthed back, rolling his eyes as far back in his head as he could to convey his spite.

 _How d’you call your loverboy?_ Adam asked, undeterred, doing his best impression of a smooth 50s blues singer, which wasn’t very smooth at all. It was kind of adorable, really.

 _Come here, loverboy,_ Ronan relented, getting into it a little more, because really, what kind of boyfriend would he be if he let Adam make a complete fool of himself all on his own?

 _And if he doesn’t answer?_ Adam mock-demanded, delighted to see Ronan playing along, eyes lighting up with amusement.

 _Oh, loverboy...?_ Ronan mouthed back, smiling and fluttering his eyelashes, because honestly, two could play at this game (and he was reasonably sure Adam had a _thing_ for his eyelashes; he’d brushed his lips over them too many times for it to be a coincidence).

 _And if he_ still _doesn’t answer?_ Adam insisted with a smirk, but Ronan was close enough to see his ears go pink, even under the tan.

_I simply say–_

Without entirely meaning to, Ronan found himself lip-syncing this part with more conviction than the teasing warranted, looking directly at Adam.

_Baby, oh, baby  
_ _My sweet baby, you’re the one._

It was meant to be just playing along, but Ronan could feel the truth of those words heavy in his chest, the way he always did when he allowed himself to think about his feelings for Adam. To think about how he couldn’t ever imagine being with anyone else, _hadn’t_ ever imagined being with anyone else; how Adam really was _the one._ He felt exposed, and breathless, and weirdly vulnerable, considering they were still just clumsily swaying in the living room to cheesy 50s rock. Suddenly he wanted very much to be staring at the ground, his ribs feeling too tight for his heart.

But Adam seemed to pick up on it, because he held Ronan’s eyes, stopping him from looking away, and sang the last line out loud. “Baby, oh, baby,” he crooned quietly, slightly off-tune, Southern accent mellowing out every sound, “my sweet baby, you’re the one.”

It could have been a joke – certainly it could be easily passed off as one – but it didn’t _feel_ like one. The final strains of the song died out around them, and they were still swaying a little, arms wrapped around each other.

_You’re the one._

Ronan swallowed. “Will you really miss me when you’re away at college?”

“Of course I will, lover.”

“You little shit,” Ronan laughed. Adam’s eyes were shining with amusement and fondness and something else that Ronan was not quite going to name, but felt reverberating in his chest, pounding against his ribcage.

“I’ll miss you too,” he said, instead of those more dangerous words, words better left for the summer nights, when he didn’t have to worry if he was blushing all the way down to his chest.

“I know,” Adam said. “So let’s make the most of the time we have.”

That, like many of Adam’s plans, was a smart idea. Ronan sat down on the couch, tugging on Adam’s hand to make him follow.

“Come here, _loverboy_ ,” he called, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Adam laughed, and went.


End file.
